Bend Sinister
by Fingersnaps
Summary: A story written for the Nepal Fanfiction Auction on NFA, The 'winning' bid was by iheartGibbs who asked for a case file featuring the whole team, which in this instance means the Season Twelve team. The MCRT have a killer to deal with, and he has a very particular trademark…
1. Chapter 1

4

 **Bend Sinister**

The man stood just under six feet tall, his muscular frame hidden by a white Tychem crime scene coverall, his face obscured by a disposable paper mask and plastic goggles. He was ready, there was a strenuous task ahead and he was grateful for the hours he'd spent pumping iron in the gym. As he lifted his burden from the trunk he drew in a deep breath, this was a load he couldn't set down until he reached the tree he'd chosen earlier, a white oak of majestic proportions which would be perfect for his requirements. He stepped out steadily, taking care not to slip on the damp leaves, twenty paces ahead, then another thirty along the trail deeper into the woods, just like he'd counted them earlier. Setting the plastic-wrapped body on the ground he checked the area, all clear, so long as everything went according to his plan he'd be out of here before the rangers did their last check of the evening.

He hurried back to the car and emerged from the shadows, scanned the parking lot and gave a satisfied smile, his was still the only car, he'd chosen this isolated location well, but he would have to finish his task quickly or the rangers would be sure to report an unauthorised vehicle after park closing. He fetched his toolbox from the back seat, hurried back to the body and set to work, moving briskly, efficiently; each time he did this he was getting better. Soon, very soon he'd be ready for his ultimate target. The late spring evening was turning chill as the first drops of the rain that had been threatening all day beat a quiet symphony on the canopy of leaves; the weather didn't bother him, he'd worked in much more difficult conditions and completed his task satisfactorily, almost…He knew exactly what he wanted, in his mind's eye the picture was perfect, he sighed quietly, this was good, but it wasn't right, before he reached his final target he had to get it right, the reality had to match the vision.

It had to be perfect, time wasn't standing still, four weeks; if he hadn't perfected his art by then…he shook his head, he couldn't fail, not when he was so close. When he ended the man who'd set him on this path, the gaping wound inside him would be healed at long last, he'd be able to sleep without the nightmares coming. How would it feel to live without the gnawing need to kill? Would it make him less of a man, or more of one, could he survive without the exultation he felt as he watched them breathe their last, as their eyes lost the last spark of life?

He'd searched so long for a purpose, for some reason to choose life over death; who would have thought it would be the deaths of others that would provide the mission to give his life meaning. For so long his life had been full of pain, of people treating him like he didn't matter, except one…one single shining light in the dark morass of days and nights spent hating, fighting, existing…

He cleared his mind, this was no time for looking back, it was time to concentrate on doing the best work he could. He stepped back to admire his work nodding briefly. "Almost there Robert; when you're home I'll be ready." He would have been happy to sit on the ground and wait for the sunrise, to see the lieutenant in all his sartorial glory, he couldn't do it, this wasn't the time, discovery now would ruin everything, send him back to the dark places…one day, when it wouldn't matter whether he was discovered or not, when his ultimate prey was dead, that day he would watch and wait.

"You look good; one more thing and you're done." He moved closer to his victim, there was a brief flash of burnished metal and a click as he fastened it in place. "Now you're ready for an audience."

He packed everything away, checking three times that there was nothing of him contaminating the scene, he couldn't be caught, not until he was done. When his task was complete it wouldn't matter, he wouldn't care who found him, life in prison, the death penalty, none of it would hold any terrors for him, not after the life he'd led.

It was done, time to leave his work for others to discover; he smiled, oh how he wished he could be here to see their faces when they looked at his work, he could imagine their admiring glances, their words of praise. If he couldn't watch, he could imagine, and the images would fan the embers of the fire burning within him, a fire only to be extinguished when the person who had torn him from the one place he felt safe and had thrown his life into a pit of despair was gone.

NCIS NCIS

Tony checked the printed pages, all there, his report was complete. He put it in the folder with a satisfied smile, another case closed. "So Bishop, you think you can tear Jake away from his new BFF long enough to join us for dinner?"

"He's excited to meet Zoe and Delilah, and I told you, Gibbs isn't his new best friend, they play racquetball on Thursdays; they talk on the phone, they don't have dinner on Saturdays. So long as we don't get a new case we're golden."

Tony stared at her, then at Tim. "Did she just…?"

"Oh yeah." Tim shook his head. "Rule eighteen Bishop."

They could see her mentally ticking off the list of rules. "Eighteen…I thought that was 'It's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission.'?"

Tim grabbed a Nutter Butter from his drawer and took it over to Ellie. "Here, feed your brain. We're talking about Tony's rules."

"Wait! Tony has rules too?"

Tony nodded. "Very special rules; number eighteen. 'Never, ever use the words 'so long as we don't get a new case.'" Ellie got the new rule in stereo as Tim echoed Tony's recitation.

With a quiet moan Ellie put her hands to her temples and rubbed gently. "Exactly how many rules do you have Tony, and…" She looks up expectantly. "McGee, tell me, do you...?"

"I do."

"How am I supposed to keep them all straight?"

"Fear not Probette, you'll learn. For now, the important thing is…"

"To do your job." Gibbs had made his appearance using stealth mode as usual. "Grab your gear; dead Navy Lieutenant in Rock Creek Park."


	2. Chapter 2

6

 **Bend Sinister Chapter Two**

"Tony, please tell me you've never seen anything like this." Ellie couldn't move, her feet seemed to be set in concrete, her eyes fixed on the body.

"Never." He toyed with the idea of sending her back to the truck on some meaningless errand, a quick glance at Lieutenant Costa's body changed his mind, the Lieutenant deserved their full attention. They had a job to do, and if Bishop wanted to be part of the team she had to deal with whatever the job threw at them. "You okay to sketch?" His tone was gentle, reassuring.

"I…yes, it's just…"

"Yeah, believe me, I know." He dredged up a smile and patted her shoulder. "Get on it Bishop, the faster we're done, the sooner Ducky can get him down." Tony took his own advice and started taking photographs, allowing himself a brief moment of satisfaction as Ellie took out her pad and started drawing. At least the light was good, the sunlight dappling the scene, pity last night's heavy rain had likely washed away most of their evidence.

Gibbs had seen the interchange between his longest serving agent and the newest recruit, he nodded once, it was working exactly as he hoped. Tony was becoming increasingly confident in his role as mentor and Ellie was losing some of her coltish naiveté. Ziva had left a big hole in his team and Ellie would need time to develop her own style, he could wait, after all, Ziva had required patience and guidance before she became a true investigator.

"Boss, is it okay if I let Ranger Poole go?"

"Sure McGee, looks like he could use a change of footwear." Gibbs watched as Tim ushered the young park ranger back to his vehicle, remembering the day a very green case-agent had encountered his first decomposing corpse. He'd come a long way and now Gibbs couldn't imagine his team without Tim as a part of it. He turned at the sound of another vehicle approaching, Ducky had arrived, good, he didn't want to leave the lieutenant displayed for all to see any longer than he had to.

"Jethro, this is too fine a morning for violent death, what do you have for me?"

"He's through here, there's a small clearing. McGee, help Palmer with Ducky's gear."

Tim nodded and walked briskly to the truck as Gibbs led Ducky toward the body. "Good Lord…that is…"

"Yeah…McGee says it looks like…something off a shield or a flag."

"An armorial device…Timothy may well be right, whatever it is, it's a desecration of humanity."

Lieutenant Costa's eyes were wide open, the struggle for his last breath etched on his face. There was nothing there that Ducky hadn't seen before, but the body…"Are you done with photographs?" Gibbs nodded. "Then we'll continue. Jethro, how on earth did we find out his identity?" Gibbs held up an evidence bag. "The bastard who did this left his military ID on the ground, by his feet, McGee will confirm when he can get his fingerprints but there's not much doubt."

"Merciful Lord…Jimmy, we'll get him down before we look for cause of death." Jimmy took a deep breath, and shuddered a little. "How…?"

"We can help Jimmy, there are tools in the truck." Tim was adjusting to the sight before him, but he wasn't surprised every newcomer to the scene took a few minutes to regain their equilibrium.

The Lieutenant was pinned to the tree by long metal rods hammered into the bark, he was stripped to the waist, his arms reaching in front of his body, his legs pinned together as if he was standing of his own free will and not trapped here, stripped of all dignity. His torso had been pierced by another rod, taking the bulk of the body's weight and keeping it in place, his head was held upright by two more pins and around his neck was set a gold coloured crown. On his chest were two cuts from his left shoulder to his right hip.

"Jimmy, let's begin, I hate to see a fellow human in such a wretched situation."

Quickly and efficiently, with due care and attention paid to both Lieutenant Costa's body and the integrity of the crime scene they took him down and laid him on a gurney ready for transport to the Navy Yard. Tim helped carry the ME's gear back to the truck while Ducky and Jimmy guided the gurney along the trail back to the parking lot.

"Thank you for your help Timothy."

"No problem Ducky; I'd better get back, we have a fingertip search to do, not that we're likely to find much after the rain."

"Good luck, hopefully we can find something useful during the autopsy. Come Jimmy, let's get our young man home."

NCIS NCIS

"Is this it?" Abby had her pen poised over the evidence list, ready to sign for whatever they'd found in Rock Creek Park. She'd been expecting boxes full of the usual detritus left at a crime scene, not the single box Gibbs set down on the counter.

"The killer took everything with him, aside from the stakes holding the body to the tree, the lieutenant's ID and the crown…do you have that?"

"Not yet, Ducky said he'll send Jimmy with it as soon as they remove it. All this." She pointed to the metal rods, carefully labelled and individually packaged in the box. "It's…not hinky…Tim sent me some of the crime scene pictures, this is…cruel."

"You got that right Abs. Lieutenant Costa didn't deserve this. When he gets the warrants McGee will look into his cellphone history and bank records; until then, he's looking for any park security footage, it's a long shot, but they've worked before. If you get anything off this stuff…"

"I'll call. Go Gibbs, you have work to do and so do I."

He hurried to the elevator, resisted the temptation to head down to Autopsy and hit the up button. Ducky would work as fast as he could, having him breathing down his neck wouldn't help. The elevator doors opened and he gave a brief smile of satisfaction; his team was hard at work, Ellie and Tony were on their phones talking with Costa's crewmates, he knew Tim had a ViCAP search running for similar homicides, and it looked as if he'd found some security footage.

"You got something McGee?"

"Not much Boss, the park doesn't have any cameras around the picnic area where we found the Lieutenant, but there are some near the Planetarium and the Nature Center. There's a road in front of the Nature Center that leads to the parking lot for picnic area 8, I'm looking for vehicles passing by and returning before dusk."

"Keep on it Tim. Tony?"

"Lieutenant Costa had lots of friends, and every one we've talked to think he's a great guy. He's in DC for a training course at the Pentagon along with most of the junior officers from his ship, a few of them called him when he didn't show this morning, we gave Tim his cell number. Bishop got his service record, he was a model sailor, practically a poster boy for the Navy. We were about to head out and talk with his closest friends in person, see if there are any cracks in their stories."

"Good work, I have a video call in ten minutes with his commanding officer, he's still on the _Monterey_ in Norfolk."

"Wow, look at you Boss, embracing the twenty-first century at last; seems like only yesterday you'd have been filling up the sedan and driving down there."

"Don't push it DiNozzo, and you can wipe the smirk off your face Bishop."

"How…?" Ellie didn't know how he always knew even when he wasn't looking in her direction. Tony was grinning. "Never question the master Bishop; time we were gone."

The rest of the day passed in non-stop activity, yet ended in frustration. The preliminary autopsy results showed Lieutenant Costa was asphyxiated, a puncture mark on his neck indicating he'd been drugged before being strangled. Abby was running a tox screen, hoping for at least one positive outcome from her hours of work; there had been no fingerprints or DNA traces on any of the metal rods or the crown. There was little for any of them to go on, and the few tenuous leads they were hoping would develop into something concrete would take time. Gibbs knew they wouldn't get anything worthwhile until morning, time to give his team a break.

"We've done all we can today, I want you all back here 06.30 tomorrow, fresh and ready to find the bastard who killed Lieutenant Costa."

NCIS NCIS

He sat in the diner, eating without tasting; it was always the same in the aftermath of a kill, this flat, emotionless period before he began a new quest. It had been only twenty-nine hours since the lieutenant breathed his last and already he felt the need to kill again. He would have to be patient, rushing things might lead to a mistake, they might find him before…

"More coffee?" The waitress held the pot aloft, ready to pour, then noticed the half-eaten meatball and cheese sub. "Something wrong with your dinner?"

He shook his head and gave her a quick smile. "Not as hungry as I thought…Ami, is that right? I will take some coffee thanks, to go." He put a $20 bill on the table and as soon as his drink was ready he headed out. He'd have to be more careful, didn't want to do anything that might draw attention, have people remember him; his best weapon was anonymity.

Time to head back to his hotel, take a look at the TV news and see what they were saying about his work of art, and then…he would take out the book and work on his next design. His heartbeat quickened, he loved looking through the book, it was exquisite, leather bound, the colour illustrations vivid and powerful, the pages edged in gold and yet…it would never be as good as the one that opened his eyes to the glories he was now sharing with the sailors he'd chosen to help him perfect his art.

He got back to his room and switched on the TV, the coverage wasn't what he'd hoped for, there was no mention of the way the lieutenant was displayed, or of the crown, no matter, NCIS was mentioned so he knew they'd made the Navy connection. He turned down the volume, pulled a small suitcase from the closet and took out the book. He had the first inkling of an idea, he turned the pages, one after the other until he saw it, yes, there it was, he would need more accoutrements and a new target of course. He had time, and he would succeed.


	3. Chapter 3

7

 **Bend Sinister Chapter Three**

"At last!" Tim grabbed his phone. "Finally got the warrant, maybe now I can get the Lieutenant's phone records, see if he called anyone the day he was murdered."

"Have fun with that; meantime Bishop and I have the sheer delight of a breakfast meeting with the two crewmates we couldn't contact yesterday. Turns out they'd been arrested after a bar brawl in Alexandria. I'm guessing massive hangovers and hazy memories will be the order of the day, what joy…come on Bish, we'll call for coffee and a breakfast burrito on the way."

"Cool. I mean I had some toast and cereal before I left home, but that was almost an hour ago…what?" They were both starting at her, a look of bemusement on their faces. Tony picked up his bag. "We should go before you expire from hunger."

Tim waved them off and with a sigh opened up the security camera footage, he'd already checked two feeds, one more to go. He put in the call for the phone records and settled in to watch, might as well pass the time constructively while he waited for Costa's information.

NCIS NCIS

"I love the smell of vomit in the morning." Tony pulled his chair as far away from Lieutenant Mannix as he could. "They couldn't let you take a shower?"

Mannix looked down at his stained sweatshirt and shrugged. "I think they were making a point."

"Letting you stew in your own juice?"

"Guess so. I…I know we screwed up, we already told the cops we'd pay for any damage so I don't get why they called NCIS."

"They didn't call."

"Then why…?" For the first time Mannix looked nervous. "I would have remembered…if I'd done something bad. I wasn't that drunk."

"How about remembering the last time you saw Lieutenant Costa?"

"Ramon? Why, what happened?"

"Let me ask the questions. When did you last see him?"

"He's hurt isn't he, or worse? Sorry…answer the question. Yesterday…no, the day before. We travelled up to DC, checked in at our hotel, did some sightseeing, we went for a drink, except Ramon, he wanted to pay his respects at the Korean War Memorial, his grandpa served…that was around 14.30."

"14.30, Wednesday?"

"Yeah; please Agent DiNozzo, he's a friend, is something wrong?"

"I'm sorry to tell you, Lieutenant Costa was found dead early Thursday morning."

"He's dead?" Mannix slumped in his chair. "I should have known, he was supposed to join us for dinner but…we thought maybe he got lucky."

"He didn't."

"Where…?"

"I can't say, ongoing investigation."

"We called, leastways Guisler called him yesterday morning when he didn't show for class. We shouldn't have left him at the Mall, if we'd stayed together…"

"Did you see anyone with him, did he talk with anyone?"

"No, not that we saw. He was walking past the Reflecting Pool, we went to get a cab and that…that was the last time we saw him. I wish…"

Tony got up and patted Mannix lightly on the shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up; I'll go see about getting you and your buddy out of here." He took a card from his pocket. "If you think of anything, call me."

He got a promise from the arresting officer that there would be no charges, a simple reparation for the bar owner and all would be well, at least that was one less thing for the two sailors to worry about. Ellie met him in the hallway. "What have you got?"

"A grief-stricken friend who wishes he could turn back the clock." Ellie sighed. "A murder has more than one victim, doesn't it?"

"Oh yeah. We should get back, we have more security footage to look at. The Mall has plenty of cameras, let's see it we can find Costa on film, and more to the point see if he was with anyone."

NCIS NCIS

"He last used his phone at 13.50 on Wednesday from just outside the Lincoln Memorial. He called his father, they were making arrangements for a weekend visit."

"You talked with his dad?"

Tim nodded. "Not an easy conversation, he's upset and angry, wants to know how a Navy Lieutenant can't be safe on the streets of our nation's capital."

"So do I, and all we have are questions, when are we going to start getting some answers? What about the bank records?"

"They're just about the most ordinary financial records I've ever seen Boss. His pay check goes in, usual expenses go out, rent, utilities, student loan; his credit card is paid in full every month. He has a few savings, nothing worth killing him for." Tim's morning had been every bit as frustrating as his afternoon had been the day before, he'd hoped for something to offer a motive, to push aside the idea that Lieutenant Cost's death was a random act of violence; if only he'd get a result from ViCAP. "This can't be his first kill."

"McGee?"

"Just thinking out loud; the way the body was posed, it's gruesome, but it's also sophisticated, doesn't feel like a novice on his first job."

"He sure didn't leave any forensic evidence."

"Exactly, but the way he posed the body, that kind of thing doesn't happen by chance. He must have done this before, I'd have expected a hit on ViCAP by now. I mean, look at it." He clicked the remote and put two pictures on the plasma, one was the crime scene photograph of Costa, the other a representation of a lion with front paws outstretched and rear paws together, standing on his hind legs. Gibbs nodded slowly, now they were side by side he could see what Tim and Ducky had seen.

"This one's from a shield?"

"Not exactly Boss, it's from a website on heraldry, heraldic attitudes of beasts…this one is called 'salient'."

"There many more of these?" Gibbs didn't like the way this was going, but right now he'd grasp any straw.

"Enough. If he wants the killer can choose more victims and…and do this." Tim clicked through several more pictures, all of them showing lions in various elaborate poses.

"Damn! We have to get him."

There was a quiet beep and Tim turned quickly to his computer screen. "Oh, this could be…" He rewound the recording and checked again. "Boss, there's a Volvo, drove past the camera at 15.28 and returns at 17.11, puts it in the right time-frame."

"You got a licence plate?"

"Putting out a BOLO right now."

"I'm going to see Ducky, call me."

NCIS NCIS

"Ah Jethro, we've been expecting you for some time, you have been more patient than usual."

"DiNozzo thinks I'm mellowing."

"Indeed?" Ducky smiled, the day his old friend mellowed was the day hell froze over.

"You got anything new?"

"Precious little I'm afraid Jethro. Abigail has confirmed our lieutenant was incapacitated before being strangled, ketamine, it would have rendered him incapable of fighting back. Hence, no defensive wounds, and therefore no skin under the fingernails or any of the killer's blood on Lieutenant Costa's body."

"Manually strangled?"

"Not with bare hands, a twine of some sort, probably coated in plastic, we found no fibres in the wound. Whoever did this terrible thing has either read a great deal about crime scene protocol or worked in forensics, I can think of no other explanation for the total absence of any physical evidence."

"What about the chest wounds, any leads on the knife?"

Ducky shook his head. "A sharp knife is all I can tell you; the cuts weren't deep enough to leave any clue as to size of blade, all I can tell you with any degree of certainty is that it wasn't a serrated blade. I can however offer you an opinion as to the significance of the wounds."

"Go ahead Duck, the way things are going opinion is all we're going to get."

"When I got home last night I couldn't shake the picture of Lieutenant Costa's body from my mind, and these…" Ducky pointed to the cuts. "I knew I'd seen them before, not on a body, but in a book, Jimmy, would you pass me…?"

"Of course Doctor, sorry, it's just…when you see it on the page…" Jimmy handed the handsome volume to Ducky and the ME opened it at the page he'd marked last night and showed it to Gibbs.

"Do you see? The diagonal lines…in heraldic terminology, they're called the bend sinister."

Gibbs squinted at the book. "Bend? The lines look pretty straight to me."

"As they are, heraldry has a language all its own. A bend is simply a diagonal line, and sinister is left, the opposite to dexter which means right."

Gibbs looked at Costa's body again and nodded briefly. "It's possible."

"Indeed it is, and it may tell us something about the killer. As I said this is merely an opinion, but the bend sinister was used to denote illegitimacy, a shield for a man born in wedlock would have the bend dexter, for those born out of wedlock…It's possible the killer is illegitimate, not a great stigma in the twenty-first century, but if he sees himself as losing out on his birth right in some way…in his warped mind he might see the killings and the elaborate post-mortem display as a way of getting some kind of payback.." Ducky could almost feel the scepticism fill the room and he gave a slightly embarrassed smile. "As I said, it's a stretch, and I fear it won't bring us any closer to finding the ba…the killer."

"Guess calling him a bastard could be right on the money." Gibbs took one last look at Ramon Costa's body. "We'll get him Lieutenant." His cellphone sounded and Gibbs flipped it open. "Yeah McGee. "

"Boss, we have a hit on the BOLO."


	4. Chapter 4

6

 **Chapter Four**

"This is a Volvo? How can you tell?" Abby stared at the mass of twisted' blackened metal that had just been delivered to the evidence garage."

"You can just about make out the licence plate Abs, the rest…" Gibbs had been hopeful for about five minutes when they got the hit on the BOLO; that was how long it took for McGee to let him know the patrolman who found the car had warned them it was a charred wreck.. He'd expected it to be bad, but this…"It's a huge ask I know, but if anyone can get something from this pile of…"

"Crap?"

"Pretty much." He handed her a fresh Caf-Pow. "If you get anything…"

"It will be a miracle. Go Gibbs, and keep the Caf-Pows coming, I think I'm going to need them."

He hurried back up to the squadroom, not expecting much progress but hoping his team could pull a rabbit out of the hat, as soon as he exited the elevator he knew there was something. Tim was clicking away furiously and Elli and Tony were looking up at the plasma expectantly.

"What have you got Tim?"

"Boss, we finally got a hit from ViCAP, not on the heraldic pose, that's why it took longer." He knew there was a glare on Gibbs' face even though he didn't look up from the screen, no irrelevances, concentrate on what they had. "The cuts on the chest." He clicked the remote and Gibbs turned to the plasma. They all saw it, a man's chest cut in exactly the same way as Costa, Ellie took a step closer as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. "Who is it?"

"Ensign Kyle Faye, his body was found March 3rd in Seattle. The case-file is on the way, but we have some crime scene pictures." Tim clicked the remote again and they watched new, brutal images appear on the screen. Tony leaned his head to one side and stared at the pictures. "If it's the same killer, why didn't he pose the body?"

"I think he did." Gibbs stood beside Tony. "Tim, put up some of the pictures of the lions you showed me earlier." Tim did as instructed and Gibbs pointed. "That one."

Tim isolated the illustration and displayed it beside one of the photographs of Faye's body. Tony let out a low whistle. "Now I see it, what do they call that one?"

"Couchant." Tim had consigned all the heraldic attitudes to memory. "I guess the Northwest Field Office didn't see anything…hinky. From what they could see Ensign Faye is just kneeling on the ground."

"No crown?"

"Nothing that seems to connect the two cases except the cuts."

"Any physical evidence?" Gibbs leaned over Tim's desk, his heart beating a little faster.

"Yeah Boss, they got DNA from blood drops at the scene, not from Faye, they ran the DNA, no matches in any database."

"Looks like he learned from his mistake, he sure didn't leave us anything this time. We're not going to get anything on the crown either, Abby says it's home-made, no way to trace where he got the sheet of metal or the fastener, they're available in just about every hardware store in the country." Gibbs' frustration was apparent in his voice, they were getting nowhere and that didn't suit any member of the MCRT.

"I have a call in to the lead agent on the Faye case, Agent Rollins, see if he can offer any insights not in the file."

"Ted Rollins…haven't seen him since Mike Franks' funeral. He's a good agent, if there was anything to see, he'd have seen it. DiNozzo, Bishop, what have you got."

Tony stretched his arms above his head and blinked rapidly several times. "Fast onset eyestrain Boss. We're looking at footage from the Mall cameras, and they have a lot of cameras; we have Costa at the Korean Memorial, so far I don't see anyone make contact with him. Bishop?"

"Same here, Costa's there for a few minutes, then he moves over to the Vietnam Memorial, so far he's alone, but we have a few more cameras we haven't looked at yet."

"Keep going, we're due a break in this case and you might just get it."

NCIS NCIS

The screen flickered into life to show a slightly overweight, balding man sitting at his desk in the Northwest Field Office, he looked into the camera, his eyes alert and his mouth crinkled into a smile when he saw a familiar face. "Special Agent Gibbs, it's been too long."

"How are you doing Ted, you get webbed feet yet?"

"Funny guy, told you before, the rainfall thing, it's an urban myth." He changed focus and turned to Tim. "You must be Tim McGee, not sure I can help but anything I can do I will; if it's the same guy I want this bastard caught as much as you."

"We have a body, exact same marks on the chest."

"And Gibbs doesn't believe in coincidence…We did a by the book investigation, case is still open because after weeks of work all we had was a dead Navy Ensign who never crossed anyone in his short life, a DNA sample we couldn't match to anyone and a family wanting answers we didn't have. Ensign Faye's mother is real sick Gibbs, I'd like to be able to tell her we have the bastard who killed her son."

"Working on it. You never had a suspect?"

"Not a one. Faye disappeared after a late-night session at Seattle Central Library, he was studying for an engineering exam. We looked at security camera pictures, interviewed anyone who ever knew him or talked with him that night. Our forensic techs went over every inch of the parking lot where he was found. Aside from a few drops of blood we got a big fat zero…I've read the file so many times, looking for something we missed; we didn't miss anything Gibbs because there was nothing to find."

"You remember Abby? I'd like her to take a look at the evidence, not saying your team missed anything…"

"Not a problem Gibbs, another set of eyes might give us a lead, I'm not about to let ego get in the way of catching this SOB. I'll have everything shipped on the next available transport; wish we could help more, I hate to leave a navy family with no answers."

"We'll try to get some. McGee, send our case-file to Agent Rollins. Ted, if you see anything in there to help us, call."

"On it."

Gibbs and Tim went back to work with renewed enthusiasm, maybe there was something in the Seattle evidence to shed new light on Lieutenant Costa's death, if not, Tony and Ellie may strike gold in their search.

As it transpired their enthusiasm was misplaced, the 'new' evidence gave them nothing they didn't already have, the multitude of pictures from the Mall gave Tony and Ellie a headache but nothing more. One minute Costa was on screen, then he was gone, and they didn't see anyone else make even casual contact, wherever he met his killer, it was away from the prying eyes of security or traffic cameras. The team worked every angle they could, hitting brick wall after brick wall in their quest for answers. They wouldn't give up, that wasn't Gibbs' style, but the agency had priorities, and when Homeland Security put Washington DC on High Alert every agent was taken off all but urgent cases and transferred to the security task force. Gibbs railed against it despite knowing full well Vance's hands were tied, eventually he conceded the inevitable; Lieutenant Costa would have to wait a little longer to get the justice he deserved.

NCIS NCIS

He studied the newspaper page by page, one week and already Lieutenant Costa's murder had ceased to be of interest to the news editors of Washington DC. He wouldn't let his guard down, he still had to be extra vigilant, the navy cops weren't likely to be as fickle as the media, they'd be looking. Not that they knew who they were looking for, he'd covered his tracks well, it was important he kept things that way.

His next kill would be the last opportunity to get his procedures right, one more dress rehearsal before the real thing. He wouldn't rush, not like he had the first time. He'd killed in anger, been unprepared, and when he posed the young sailor the picture was crude, unsatisfying. He'd marked him with the sinister, tried his best to pose him as he'd remembered from the book, but what he did, it was a travesty. He had to use the simplest pose and even then it looked wrong, he'd made a promise that night; in future emotion would take a back seat, he'd plan carefully and execute professionally. Lieutenant Costa's pose had been good, not great, there were still things he could improve and he would.

He was hungry to kill again but he knew patience was the key. He'd already chosen the location where the next body would be displayed, his transport would be no problem, there were enough old vehicles on the road without sophisticated alarm and tracking systems to make stealing a car child's play for him.

Choosing the lucky man who would have a place on the Argent Roll of Arms was his next task, and there were so many places where sailors congregated he was almost spoiled for choice…there was no hurry, when the time was right he would choose the right man and then he could create another work of heraldic art. That was when he truly came alive, when he posed them using the pictures in his head and the skills he'd learned. He felt a completeness he couldn't find any other way, and when Robert was the one being displayed…no, he couldn't run ahead of the plan. Robert was at sea for now, he had time enough to get everything right, no need to rush. He took a gulp of lukewarm coffee, breathed deep once, twice. Even after all these years just thinking about Robert could get him riled, send him back to the dark days when he lost the one person who treated him like a regular human being, and with him had gone his last chance to live a normal life.

He missed Peter Westwood every day, treasured the hours they'd spent together looking at the book, at the fabulous beasts, the gorgeous colours. If he closed his eyes he could hear Peter's soothing voice telling him the stories behind the coats of arms and the men who carried them, men of honour who lived by a code of chivalry, a code Peter tried to instil in him. If only they'd had more time, if Peter's heart had been stronger, if Robert had let him be instead of…his heart was beating faster, palms sweating, whenever he thought about the way his life had been blighted that day he almost lost the control he fought so hard to maintain. This was no time to lose himself in past memories, it was time to concentrate on what was to come, he took more deep breaths, payback was coming, very soon Robert would take his place on the Roll and the torment would end.


	5. Chapter 5

5

 **Chapter Five**

"I'm done here" He placed the ID card at the sailor's feet. "Rest easy Petty Officer, your place on the Roll of Arms has been secured."

He was satisfied, this had been an almost perfect dress rehearsal; Robert was due back in ten days and by then everything would be in place, the location, transport, the pose, he could see it all so clearly in his head…breathe, he was doing it again, running ahead of the plan. He would take a moment, relish what he had achieved here.

To him this shield was a thing of beauty, the sailor lay on a field of azure forming the lower section of the shield, posed like a beast ready to pounce, the marks of the bend sinister dark red on his ghostly white chest. His legs were slightly apart in the sprinters on your marks position, his torso horizontal, one arm pointing to the ground, the other reaching out in front of his body holding a banner displaying the crossed keys of St Peter, his head…the sound of his neck snapping as his head had been forced into an outward facing position had sent a frisson of sheer ecstasy through the man working so assiduously to perfect his twisted art. He smiled now, consigning to his memory this wondrous image, the cloth of argent laid as the chief, the top of the shield, and displayed within, two crossed swords, topped by a crested helm…oh yes, this was very nearly as good as it could get.

The only way he could improve on this picture would be to have Robert Jameson's body lying still and cold, ready for his eager hands to pose him and in doing so gain the peace he craved. He'd known a kind of peace once, a brief shining moment amidst the dark night his life had been. Born to a mother whose only love was crack cocaine, fathered by one of the men she sold herself to for another high, he'd spent the first few years of his life with a grandmother he couldn't remember except for the bruises she doled out if he cried too long…deep in the recesses of his mind he remembered a hospital, lots of worried faces, and then for a long time there were houses he slept in, families who said they'd care for him, but they never kept him…

Then Nancy and Phil Jameson visited the group home and it seemed his life was about to enter a new dimension. After the usual bureaucratic hoops had been jumped through and he'd spent a few weekends staying with the Jameson family the fostering process was complete and he found himself sharing a bedroom and a life with Robert, three years his senior and the confident product of a settled home with parents who loved him. Seemed they had also had love to share with a troubled ten year old who craved what they had to offer. For a few months they all got on okay, he settled into yet another new school, got used to a new routine and started to let down his guard. Sure, there was friction between Robert and the 'new kid' but nothing worse than most siblings would go through. Looking back now he almost had some sympathy for Robert's possessiveness toward his space and his belongings, his space had been invaded by a total stranger and he'd been told to share…They managed to get along, most of the time, it wasn't always easy and there were times when he had to dig his fingernails deep into his palms to stop himself hitting Robert really hard.

He wasn't sure how long he'd have been able to hold back, each day he felt his fuse getting shorter, the rage building up inside, maybe it would have ignited if Nancy's father hadn't come to live with them.

Peter Westwood had gained a place deep in a troubled boy's heart within days of his arrival. He'd never forget the morning he sneaked his way into Peter's bedroom and started looking through the books on the newly assembled shelves; he didn't even know why he did it, wasn't as if books had been a big part of his life up to then. He smiled as he remembered the startled boy who'd almost jumped out of his skin when Peter entered the room carrying a cup of hot coffee, he'd stammered out an apology and started to leave when a firm hand on his shoulder steadied him.

"Not so fast, you rocket-powered kid? Slow down, if you like we could sit and get to know each other some, I have nowhere else to be."

"I…I didn't take anything."

"Didn't think you had, but if you ever want to borrow one of my books, go ahead." He's settled down in the old La-Z-Boy he'd brought with him, put his cup on the table beside the chair and pulled a leather bound book from the shelf. "Saw you looking at this, what took your fancy?"

His fingers re-traced the gold letters glistening on the spine of red leather. "Ne…never saw anything like this before…feels so soft."

"Good choice Craig. Hey, this book, it's like you were meant to find each other. Nancy told me your surname is Argent; in the language of heraldry argent is silver. Sit here, let me show you."

Peter had opened the book and Craig entered a new, wonderful world of colour, history, magical beasts, knights on horseback, jousts…he'd soaked it all in. It had changed him, reversed the downward track his life had been on; for two years he lived like a normal person, secure in the knowledge one person in the world truly cared for him. It seemed too good to be true, turned out it was.

Craig shivered, he'd done it again, lost himself in the past. There'd be time enough for that when Robert paid for what he'd done. This was not the time for reminiscing, it was time for him to get out of here, to put the necessary distance between Craig Argent and the death of another sailor.

He completed his checks, ensuring everything was packed away, then with one last glance at his creation he picked up the bags and walked back to the old Ford van he'd stolen earlier. The picture they'd find tomorrow was the culmination of a well-worked plan, he'd started out watching sailors, waiting until he found the right one, the one who went out alone, let his guard down just long enough for a hypodermic needle to be stabbed into his neck. Craig had been dressing as a homeless man to facilitate his work, from his personal experience no-one gave homeless people a second glance…There was something almost poetic in finding the Petty Officer helping out at a shelter for homeless veterans in his off-duty time. It had been so easy to appear drunk as the sailor left the shelter after his busy Sunday shift, to stumble against him as he as he started his walk to the Metro station, the sailor had reached out a hand to steady him, and he'd pounced, it was oh, so easy.

The van had been parked close by, away from the prying eyes of traffic cameras and it took no time to get the limp body in the back of the van and apply the necessary pressure to his throat, he stopped breathing and in Argent's eyes ceased to be a human being, he became a mannequin, to be used in any way he saw fit. Craig had driven out to the abandoned construction site, his heartbeat quickening the closer he got, he'd managed to keep control, to do everything as he'd planned, right down to the last detail.

Now it was over he had to maintain focus, he couldn't afford to be discovered before he'd achieved his ultimate goal. He drove carefully, keeping to the speed limits, following the route he'd mapped earlier, keeping to the side roads where he wouldn't be caught on camera. When he reached his destination he grabbed a small bag from the van, stripped off his clothes, and threw them into the van along with a small package. Part way up the narrow track to the road he stopped and keyed in a code on his cellphone, a satisfying roar filled the air and flames lightened the pitch black night sky. He nodded, satisfied they'd find nothing to trace back to him and started walking again, the bus was due in twenty minutes, should give him enough time to get to the main road, he'd be back in his hotel within the hour, set his alarm for an early morning start, there was one more job to do. He couldn't let his glorious art go undiscovered too long, to be at risk from the elements, or worse, from vermin, no he couldn't let that happen, he'd found a working payphone and just after dawn he'd call NCIS, tell them where to find the body so they could fully appreciate his skill and artistry.

NCIS NCIS

"Damn it! I told Vance this would happen." Gibbs stalked the perimeter of the crime scene, his face pinched and drawn. The team had been tip-toeing on eggshells around Gibbs ever since the High Alert was downgraded and they were able to return to work on Costa and Faye's murders. They'd re-examined every piece of evidence, spoken to what seemed like everyone who had ever had any contact with Ramon Costa, anyone who might tell them something they didn't already know. At the end of each day they went home tired and frustrated as their endeavours gained nothing, and each day they felt the fear grow that this killer was not done and one day a call would come…nineteen days after days after Costa's body had been found their worst fears were realised.

Gibbs came to a halt, ready to start work. "We dropped the ball and another sailor is dead." He was trying to calm down, keep the anger inside; they had to be at the top of their game, no mistakes. "By the book people, let's move." He stared into the unseeing eyes of the dead sailor and made a solemn promise. "No more, you hear me, it ends here!"


	6. Chapter 6

7

 **Chapter Six**

They all wanted this to be the last. No one deserved to be treated this way, to die at the hands of this twisted bastard was bad enough, to be subjected to such indignities after death was adding insult to the gravest of injuries.

Without a word they set about the tasks they prayed would bring them closer to catching the killer. Sketches were drawn, photographs taken, the victim's identity was confirmed.

"Fingerprints match the photo ID Boss, this is Petty Officer Alec Stearman, he was three months into a temporary assignment with the Office of Naval Research. I'll arrange an interview with his commander when we're done here."

Gibbs nodded and pointed toward the body. "What's this called?"

"I think it's 'passant'." Tim checked the website on his phone and showed the pictures to Gibbs. "This one."

"Looks about right, except the head, it's not in the same position."

Tim opened another web page and read from the screen. "'Guardant, the beast looking outward', in heraldic terms this pose would be called a passant guardant."

Gibbs glanced at the picture. "He's playing with us McGee, we have to stop him."

"We will Boss." Tim went back to work, they would get him, all they needed was one small break.

Ellie put her sketch pad away with a sigh. To think someone had taken so much time and trouble, and all to leave a fellow human being in this condition. The scene was much worse that the last one, and yet when she first saw it she hadn't felt the same sense of shock she did before; in a way she was sad about that, was she already becoming hardened to the evil man could do to his fellow man?

"To get through this stuff you have to build a shell Bishop, doesn't mean you don't care."

"How did you know Tony? I thought it was Gibbs who knew everything."

"I've worked with him a long time, guess I've soaked up some of the Gibbs mojo over the years." Tony was getting close-ups, working around Ducky and Jimmy as they carried out their preliminary checks.

Early indications were that the Petty Officer had been strangled, the cuts on his chest certainly weren't deep enough to cause severe injury, let alone death. "We will get to work on the autopsy as soon as we get him back home Jethro." Ducky shook his head sadly. "This escalation in elaboration could be significant, there's a lot more…I hesitate to use the word sophistication, but it's plain to see he's taken the display to a new level."

"If he's showing off maybe he left us some evidence this time. All this stuff, the swords, helmet, they're not home made."

"Then I wish you good luck in your endeavours, if you're finished with the photographs…"

"Yeah, take him Duck, see what you can get for us."

NCIS NCIS

The team spent their day searching for any tiny thread of evidence to lead them one step closer to their elusive killer. Despite the increased complexity of the staging they got nothing from the physical evidence. Interviews with Stearman's friends and family led nowhere, it was all starting to look like a carbon copy of the Ramon Costa case, the routine was becoming as familiar as it was frustrating.

They'd hoped to get a lead from the payphone where the anonymous call had been made, as ever it seemed the killer had chosen carefully; there were no security cameras close by, and of course, he'd left no prints or DNA. There was an alert out for any reports of stolen vehicles being set ablaze, nothing so far, and in truth none of them expected to find anything even if a vehicle turned up.

The end of the day had left them barely one step further on than they'd been at the start. All they had to work with now was the paraphernalia displayed with Stearman's body. Abby had found no forensic evidence, everything was pristine clean, like it was brand new. Gibbs hit the off switch harder than was necessary and the computer monitor went dark. "Enough people. Be ready to get started on the suppliers in the morning. If he got this stuff in the DC area maybe we'll get a description we can work with."

They had divided the list of dealers in theatrical supplies and historical replicas between them, Gibbs and Ellie would work on the ones closest to DC, Tony and Tim had fewer calls to make but they were heading further afield so would be hitting the road bright and early. They grabbed their go-bags and headed for the elevator, Tony held the door open. "You coming Boss?"

"Ducky was double-checking a few things; I'll see if he has anything then I'll head home." He watched them go, pleased despite his darkening mood, to see their reluctance to leave, like him, they wanted nothing more than to work until the case was solved. They'd done it before, worked long hours, sometimes too long, mistakes could creep in and they couldn't afford a single slip, not when the killer was as well prepared as this one. He threw his empty cup in the trash, shaking his head at the number of empties he'd accumulated in a single day, best not to tell Ducky about them, he was supposed to be cutting down.

The autopsy doors glided open and he walked in. "Hey Duck, you on your own?"

"I sent Jimmy home, he has a family to be with, as for me, I have Petty Officer Stearman for company."

"He telling you anything?"

"Sadly, our young man is proving to be resolutely silent."

Gibbs wasn't surprised, disappointed, but not surprised. "Wasn't expecting the killer to leave us anything. He's a slippery bastard."

"Indeed. You caught me reading some background on the heraldry, I was hoping we might get a better understanding of the motivation behind the posing if I could see a pattern in the changes he's made to the staging."

"And…?"

"There doesn't appear to be any particular symbolism to the attitudes he's chosen."

"Attitudes? Don't tell me, heraldic language."

"Apologies Jethro, yes, an attitude is simply the posture of the beast on a coat of arms, couchant, passant, rampant…oh."

"What?"

"I'm not sure, a fleeting thought perhaps brought on by fatigue, let me get some sleep and I'll attempt to put my thoughts in order. I just want to finish this chapter."

"No more Duck, you said it yourself; you need some rest, we all do."

"But it's a fascinating subject Jethro, for instance, did you know the College of Arms in London was founded in 1483 by Richard III?"

Gibbs sighed, this was no time for one of his old friends' segues into irrelevance. "Duck…any chance you could stay in this century?"

"As it happens, Richard is very much of this century. However, I won't bore you with the details. Now, go home Jethro, take your own advice, I will get this young man settled and be on my way too."

He waved Gibbs on his way, put a bookmark in his page and stored the book in his briefcase, he'd resume his reading at home accompanied by a glass of single malt. He lifted the sheet, ready to cover the Petty Officer, and leaned close with a sad smile. "You will have to excuse Jethro, he's always in such a hurry, but he will work tirelessly until he finds the man who put you here. Now where were we? Ah yes, Richard III, in 1485 he was the last English king to be killed in battle; they discovered his remains just three years ago, under a car park of all places, confirmation the bones are his was made using DNA…I told Jethro it was a twenty-first century story, it's fascinating, let me tell you what happened…"

NCIS NCIS

Craig walked steadily, taking care to keep his head down, away from the prying eyes of security cameras. The peak of his baseball cap shielded most of his face and although he was certain they didn't have any clue to his identity this was not the time to be taking any chances, not when he was so close.

He'd taken a chance leaving his hotel room, but the tension had been building all day. Since he's made the call to NCIS he'd watched every news bulletin, eager for any scraps of information about the discovery of his latest work of art. There hadn't been much, he should have expected it after the last time, looked like they were keeping most of the details to themselves; he knew enough about the way law enforcement worked to understand why, didn't stop him wanting to see more. When he felt like hitting his fist against the wall he knew it was time to get out for a while.

Without thinking he'd walked to the library, he'd found solace as he always did when surrounded by books. It was true the small library had a limited range of history books, didn't matter, just turning the pages and studying the illustrations calmed him as it had years ago when Peter took him to get his own library card. He'd stayed until closing and was heading back to get some rest before he began fine-tuning the planning for his crowning glory.

"Stop! Put it down, it's mine!" He was shaking, sweating, his heart beating out of his chest, it was always the same when he woke up from what should have been a nightmare but was in fact a memory.

How his life had changed that day, no…it had changed two weeks earlier when Peter Westwood had clutched his chest, his face a mask of fear as his heart failed him. Craig had screamed for help and Nancy had come running, too late, Peter was gone. The days following his death had passed in a dazed blur, for hours Craig sat in Peter's favourite chair holding the red leather book, it was a link to the kindest man he'd ever known, and a doorway to a new and wonderful world, a world he could hold to him when things got too bad, when Robert made another snide comment or gave him a sly dig in the ribs.

After the funeral, when the house seemed emptier than ever, he refused to go back to school, he'd only gone to make Peter happy, all school had ever meant to him was wasted time…until he saw another way, had someone close to share the heartaches and the little successes, and now…he was alone, except for the books and the magical world he could escape to when he looked through them. He could have got through the bad times if he'd been left alone, had time to come to terms with his loss. He didn't get the time because Robert couldn't wait, wouldn't show respect to his own grandfather.

Fifteen days, that was all he'd waited before deciding he'd no longer share a bedroom with a 'kid who wasn't even his real brother', Craig had come home from another of his solitary walks to find Robert tipping the books into a box for Goodwill. He'd tried to stay calm, to remember all the times Peter's soothing voice had counselled against anger. "No. Robert, if you don't want the books, let me have them, please."

Robert had sneered and held the red leather-bound volume over the box. "You want this, come get it, creep. Take it, like you took my grandpa from me."

Craig had tried, he'd never tried harder to get anything, but Robert was older, stronger, and it seemed like two years of unspoken jealousy was in every spiteful punch. "Is that the best you've got? You don't deserve this, look at it, a kid's book full of pretty pictures, it's garbage and that's where it's going." Before Craig could register what was happening Robert was tearing the pages, ripping them from the binding, destroying the majesty of the heraldic devices, he'd seen red and launched himself, fists flying, teeth bared. "Stop! Put it down, it's mine!" He'd screamed, punched, kicked, he'd tasted blood as his teeth dug into Robert's arm.

All his efforts were in vain; Phil Jameson had grabbed him from behind and pulled him away from his son, they'd dragged him outside to watch as they lit the flame that destroyed the most beautiful thing he'd ever owned, and at the same time they re-ignited the rage he'd held inside for so long. He lashed out at anyone and anything and wasn't surprised when he heard the sirens, he'd done it again, they were sending him away, he tried to care, but without Peter, without the books, there was nothing to hold him there...his life had changed again, and this time he knew there would be no happy ending.


	7. Chapter 7

8

 **Chapter Seven**

Gibbs exited the elevator into the quietly bustling bullpen and did a second-take as he saw Ducky sitting at his desk. "Did you even get home Duck?"

"Indeed I did. I find I don't require as much sleep as I did in my younger days, an early start seemed in order, so here I am."

"Sounds like you got your train of thought on track."

Ducky opened his book at the page he'd marked. "These are some of the most commonly used attitudes for heraldic beasts. Our killer has already used three, couchant, salient and passant."

"Still gives him more to choose from."

"Very true, however, I think he's been working towards a specific aim. The attitude here, rampant, it is often seen as the most powerful, and is frequently used on royal coats of arms."

"You think he's working his way up the ladder?"

"I do; it looks very much as if he has a plan, the elaboration increases with every kill. I think, and it is only a theory, but I believe he has a specific target in mind for the final pose, the rampant. I very much fear it's of no help in your search for the killer, without knowing who he is and who he wants, we can't know how to stop him."

"Oh, we'll stop him Duck, I'm not going to look at another sailor's body broken and twisted because this guy has a plan. I have a plan too, it's called catch the bastard."

The elevator pinged as Ellie arrived and Ducky picked up his book, ready to get back to his own domain. "Then I won't keep you any longer. I wish you success in your quest for answers Jethro. Eleanor, good morning to you, all alone this morning?"

"Tony and McGee were heading out from home, they have a lot of calls to make."

"So do we, let's get on the road."

NCIS NCIS

Tim glanced at the list on his phone. "Once this one's done we're exactly half-way through."

"Who knew so many people wanted to buy this stuff?"

"Guess there's no accounting for taste."

"Says the guy with Star Wars wallpaper. Okay, let's get this done, at this rate we won't be on the road to DC before rush hour."

They pushed open the door and entered Lancelot Costumes. It was Tony's turn to make the introductions and explain what they were looking for. The reaction was one they were getting used to, a shake of the head. "Sorry, even if your guy came here we couldn't have helped him; we don't sell our stuff, it's leased to theatre companies, pageants, that kind of thing, Right now we're supplying a revival of _Camelot_ so all our medieval era stuff is out on loan."

"You're sure no one's been here asking?"

"Certain Agent DiNozzo, I'm pretty much a one-man band, if he'd called I'd have seen him. Wish I could help."

"No problem Mr Aldrich, I'll leave a card, if you think of anything…looks like we're done here McGee, let's hit the road." They headed for the door.

"Hey, wait!" Ted Aldrich hurried from behind the counter. "There's something…maybe. They specialised in carnival gear but they did stock some stage props. Around ten miles due east on this road, there's a warehouse. We all thought they'd gone out of business, only…my wife's brother works close by, he says the last two weeks trucks have been coming and going…could be they're back in business."

"Do you have a name?"

"Used to be Zoltar's Emporium…crazy huh?"

"Crazy, unless he was a fan of Tom Hanks' early work. Thanks, we'll check it out and if this guy comes looking."

"I'll be sure to call."

They got back to the car, Tony switched on the ignition and Tim opened the map on his phone. "It's en route to the next call on our list Tony, guess we might as well go check it on the way."

"Let's do it."

NCIS NCIS

Ellie followed Gibbs as he took long strides across the parking lot toward Griffin Pageant and Play; they'd almost exhausted their list and he'd been getting more impatient as the hours passed.

"This looks more likely Gibbs, it's not on the main drag, and I don't see any security cameras on the street."

"He sure likes to work in the shadows." Gibbs agreed with Ellie, he could imagine the killer being more comfortable away from the busier areas they'd already visited.

As they stepped inside the tall, bespectacled, balding man behind the counter smiled. "Hi folks, you looking for anything special, or just browsing?"

Gibbs took out his ID. "I'm Special Agent Gibbs, this is Agent Bishop, we're with NCIS. We have some pictures." Ellie put the photographs on the counter. "We can see you stock this kind of stuff, do you recognise them Mr…?"

"Griffin, I'm Peter Griffin, been in this business twenty years. Let's take a look." He picked up each picture, his face growing more troubled. "This is our stock for sure. Is there a problem?"

"Just following up a lead." Gibbs pointed at the pictures. "You're sure?"

"One hundred percent, you see this mark?" Without his glasses Gibbs wasn't sure what he was looking at, Ellie picked up one of the pictures and took a close look.

"I know this symbol, oh that's clever." She showed it to Gibbs. "It's an imprint of a griffin, half eagle, half lion."

Peter Griffin smiled. "It seemed like the perfect mark for us, we stamp it on every item in the store. Our little joke I guess, but it does mean I can guarantee these came from here. The guy who bought these, he bought a crown too, is there another picture?"

"No, there was no crown; do you have security cameras?" Gibbs looked around the store, he couldn't see anything, but he could hope.

"Not out in the store, we have one up there." He indicated a shield above the counter. "My nephew, he's doing an electronics degree, likes to practice; he put a camera in the shield, see it, in the griffin's eye? We take a picture every time we make a sale, in case there's a problem with payment, there's a switch on the cash register."

"You have the pictures stored somewhere?" Ellie's heart started to beat a little faster, were they going to get a break at last?

"Sure do, on my computer out back. I just need to get the time and date of sale from my records. Give me a few minutes."

"We should come with you…chain of evidence."

"No problem Agent Gibbs, follow me."

They waited while he locked the front door then followed Griffin into the small, cluttered office. "Sorry about the mess, never seems to be enough time to get everything clean and…oh, was it…? Yes, the guy who bought that stuff, he paid cash which is unusual these days, that's why I remember him so clearly, and there was another thing." He reached up to a shelf, took down a plastic carton and opened it. "When he was looking at the crowns, one of the metal claws holding the pieces of coloured glass, it had come loose, and the sharp edge cut his finger. I'll be honest, until he did that, I wasn't sure he wanted to buy it, but he paid right away and took it with the other things." He pulled out a piece of dark blue velvet cloth and unfolded it. "This is the cloth I had in the display case. You see here? When he cut his finger some blood got on the cloth, I didn't notice until I went to put in another crown. I put a new cloth in the case and took this out to get it cleaned."

Ellie didn't need to be told, she hurried for the door. "I'll get an evidence bag from the car."

"You're certain it was the same man?"

"Oh yeah, like I said Agent Gibbs, cash sales are rare these days."

Ellie retuned and held out the bag, Griffin dropped the cloth inside and while it was sealed and initialled he opened up the picture file on his computer. It didn't take long for him to find the relevant image and Ellie emailed it to Abby. Gibbs thanked Peter Griffin again.

"You've given us a real chance to catch a break in a difficult case." He gave Griffin a card. "I doubt he'll come back, but if he does, and if you can contact me without him knowing, I'd appreciate a call."

"Count on it."

NCIS NCIS

This hotel was further down-market than the one he'd checked out of a few hours earlier. Craig didn't care, he'd sleep on the street if it meant Robert got what he deserved. Money wasn't the problem, he'd never had much to spend his money on, no family, no lover, not since…no, not again, if only he could leave it in the past, impossible. Until he had Robert Jameson laying on a field of gules, the crown on his head, the bend sinister etched deep into his chest, until that glorious day arrived he'd live in the shadows, waiting for the light of righteousness to shine his way.

NCIS NCIS

Abby was already running facial recognition when they got back and was delighted when Gibbs handed her the velvet cloth, she even ignored the Caf-Pow he left on the counter. At last, she had some hard evidence to work with.

He left her fully engrossed in her tasks and headed up to the bullpen, there was still work to be done. When he exited the elevator he was surprised to see Bishop hunched over her computer with no other member of the MCRT in sight.

"Has DiNozzo called in?"

"No." Ellie checked her list of businesses. "A couple of their addresses are way out of the city, maybe it's taking longer than they thought."

"Doesn't stop them using a phone." He flipped open his phone and hit Tony's number, voice mail, he did the same for Tim's and got the same response. He selected another number.

"So soon Gibbs? You could at least play hard to get."

"Abs, you hear from Tony or McGee since lunch?"

"Tim called about two, said they had an extra call to make…wait. Why are you asking me? You should be asking…Gibbs, what's wrong?"

"Probably nothing."

"Probably? Not good enough. I'll get a trace on their phones."

"Thanks Abs." He switched off his phone and saw Ellie watching him. "Don't you have any work to do?"

"Shouldn't we go look for…?"

"When we know where they are we'll go looking. Until Abby calls we work the case."

They didn't have time to do much before Abby was back on the line. "Their phones are off Gibbs, which is…hinky; so I tracked the GPS in the agency sedan. I'm sending Bishop the co-ordinates, go find them Gibbs, please."

Gibbs didn't insult her intelligence by pretending there was nothing wrong. Two NCIS agents out searching for a lead and neither of them contactable, not only was that a violation of Rule #3, it was just plain wrong.

"I have the co-ordinates Gibbs." Ellie took her Sig from the drawer and grabbed her jacket; Gibbs was already at the elevator. "Then let's move."

NCIS NCIS

"Gibbs."

"I see it Bishop." He'd made excellent time getting here, trying not to second-guess what they might find. What he didn't want to see was a group of emergency vehicles, their blue lights flashing, at the exact co-ordinates Abby had supplied. He parked quickly and as they got out of the car he heard Ellie's cry as they saw the agency sedan; it was off the road, half hidden in a ditch, flames licking the hood. They set off at a run halting briefly to show a patrolman their IDs, they'd taken one step forward and were almost blown off their feet as the gas tank exploded and the sedan became a fireball.


	8. Chapter 8

10

 **Chapter Eight**

Another burned out wreck stood in the evidence garage and Abby stared hard, willing something to be here, to show her where Tony and Tim had gone. She wouldn't believe for one minute they were…she couldn't even think the word. She would work like she'd never worked before and she'd get a lead, Gibbs was counting on her.

"Abigail, Jimmy and I have come to offer assistance if we can, you have a lot to do and if there's any sign of…"

"They're not dead."

"I pray you are right, and our examination of the car at the scene confirms the lack of human remains; mercifully we have no autopsy to carry out; we would like to help, just tell us what to do."

After working their way through twisted metal and charred vinyl all they had to show for their efforts were two melted cellphones and the half-burned remains of a wrist-watch. Abby recognised it as Tim's watch and her heartbeat was racing as she dusted it for prints, she prayed silently as she worked and didn't even notice the fresh Caf-Pow that materialised at her elbow.

"Yes! Got it."

"Abby, you have a print?" Ducky had all but given up hope.

"A partial, but enough points to make a positive ID."

"Provided the prints are in a database."

"They will be Ducky, they have to be."

She was continuing her vain search for any workable DNA samples when the ding she'd been hoping for echoed in the silence of the lab. "I knew it, I knew we'd get something. We have to tell Gibbs."

NCIS NCIS

"Let me try Tim. It'll help keep me warm."

"I'm almost there…damn!" The knife slipped again and clattered on the concrete floor, Tim dropped to his knees and swept his hands across the floor, it was so cold, he could barely control the shivering and he had to do it, he had to get them out of here. "Got it." He picked up the knife and wiped it on his pants. "You sure Tony?"

"Pass me the knife."

"Here you go." He handed Tony the knife and took his hand. "This way, you feel it?" Tim had been working on the screws in the door hinges for what felt like forever, thankful the knife on his belt buckle hadn't been found by the men who put them here. Two of the hinges were loose enough to take out by hand, the third was proving to be a lot tougher, and he was getting tired. "You ready Tony?"

"Leave me to it. Won't be long now and we'll be out of here." Tony ignored the nagging headache and concentrated on getting some traction on the screw-head. "You think Gibbs will be looking for us?"

"That crack on the head must have addled your brains. We've been unreachable for hours Tony, what do you think?"

"Man, this isn't moving…You think he'll be mad at us?"

"Not when he knows what happened, and to let him know we have to get out of here."

"Okay, point taken, I'm working on it. I think…yeah, it's moving, we're almost there. You can have your jacket back, I'm warmer now."

"No, you keep it, you most likely have a concussion, and your lungs…it's cold in here and the air's damp, can't be good for you, you need to keep as warm as you can."

"And what about you?"

"While you were sleeping in the corner I've been working on the door, I'm plenty warm enough."

"Hey! I wasn't sleeping, they whacked me on the head…how did they get the drop on us Tim?"

"Wish I knew…they seemed to come out of nowhere; oh…Tony, do you remember the mirrors?"

"Sure do, haven't seen anything like them since I was last at a fairground."

"What if…if they don't just distort reflections, what if they're two-way, they could see us…"

"But we couldn't see them, makes sense…no way they'd get the drop on us if we could have seen them."

Tim leaned against the wall and took several deep breaths, he had to be ready in case Tony couldn't get the last screw unfastened. "You sure you're okay Tony? You were out for a while."

"I've been hit harder by Gibbs, I'm good Tim."

He sounded okay so Tim relaxed against the wall and took a few minutes to rest. He'd been worried about Tony ever since he came to and realised they were locked in and the room was freezing cold and damp, he couldn't see the mould, but he could smell it. The room was dark, and for a minute he thought he was alone, then he'd heard Tony breathing and he let out a sigh of relief. The attack had been so sudden they hadn't had time to take out their weapons. They'd been expecting to talk with the owner of Zoltar's Emporium and had walked in on…who knew? They certainly didn't; it had been a matter of seconds, a flash of light, noise, pain, and then…what? He couldn't remember, from there to here, had they been taken or were they locked away somewhere in the same building? Only one way to find out.

"How's it going Tony?"

"Almost done, a couple more turns…got it!" Tony's cry of triumph was accompanied by the sound of metal hitting the floor.

"Way to go Tony; okay, next step. We take out the middle screw…can you hold the door steady while I take out the one at the top."

"Oh yeah, leave me with the heavy lifting."

It was too dark to see Tony but Tim could hear the smile in his voice. He was relieved, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold the door upright, not for long anyway. "Hey, I was working on this while you were…"

"Not sleeping; I was unconscious."

"I know Tony, and when we're out of here first stop is the hospital."

"Gibbs might have something to say about that, we're in the middle of a murder case."

"He can spare you for a night."

"I guess it depends on how long we've been out of action. Wish they'd left our watches; the guns and phones I understand, but watches…"

"Some have tracking software now, they could be traced. What I don't get…"

"Why didn't they just kill us? Maybe whatever it is they're doing they might want insurance."

"Then they could be coming back soon, we should get moving."

Tony shifted position and braced himself to take the weight of the door. "Go Tim."

As quickly as he could Tim turned the middle screw smiling grimly as it hit the floor, he took a deep breath, reached up and unscrewed the final screw until it was almost out. "You ready Tony?"

"Ready."

He gave two more turns and the screw was out; Tony held tight as Tim took hold of a hinge and got some traction, as soon as there was a small gap Tony pulled and with a rusty groan the door opened, just enough room for them to clamber through. As Tony let go of the door the weight broke the lock and it crashed to the ground. "There goes our element of surprise."

"With luck there's no one here but us."

"The kind of day we're having and you're hoping for good luck, your world must be a wonderful place McOptimist."

"You're a funny guy; come on, let's see if we can find some daylight."

NCIS NCIS

"Fornell, what are you doing here, is Emily okay?"

"She's fine. Let me ask the questions Jethro. Why in the name of all that's holy are your agents gate-crashing an FBI undercover operation? We've been working on that drug network for eight months."

"Back up Tobias; my agents…you mean DiNozzo and McGee?" Fornell raised his eyebrows. "Who else?"

"Where? Tell me, they've been missing since yesterday."

"Missing? Our agent said the intruders had been left at the pageant suppliers place."

"We checked there first, they're gone Tobias."

"I…I don't understand, he's worked his way up in the organisation, they do as he says."

"Ya think Tobias?"

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!" Abby ran from the elevator and almost crashed into Fornell. "I got a hit on the partial from…from Tim's watch."

"His watch? Why do you have his watch if McGee's not here?"

"Didn't your undercover agent tell you?" Gibbs turned his back on Fornell and concentrated on Abby. "Go Abs."

She clicked the remote and a police mug-shot appeared on the screen. "Mark Bowman, he's a bad guy Gibbs, drugs, assault, grand theft auto."

"Bishop."

"Working on an address Gibbs."

Fornell shook his head. "You can't go after him Jethro; Bowman is FBI agent Carl Taylor, you can't break his cover."

"Do not tell me I can't go after the man who put my people in harm's way. He took their phones, likely left them without their firearms, and he threw their belongings in the trunk of a car and set it to blow."

"No…Jethro, he…you're sure?"

"You heard Abby." Gibbs gave her a brief hug and whispered. "Great work Abs, we're getting closer."

Fornell leaned against Tony's desk, unable to speak, to think, he didn't know Taylor well, but he was FBI, he'd do everything to protect fellow federal agents, wouldn't he? Or was he in so deep he couldn't tell right from wrong any longer? "He wouldn't hurt your guys Jethro, I know it; what he did, he must have been protecting his cover."

"At any cost?"

"No! You know what it can be like undercover, intense, disorienting…he's done this kind of work before; if there was a way to protect DiNozzo and McGee he'd have found it."

"Where Tobias?"

"I can't…it's an ongoing operation."

"They're my people Tobias, I'm not leaving them out there. 17 hours missing, I want them back." Gibbs stood toe to toe with Fornell. "Please."

Fornell held his breath, did Gibbs just say…? Of all the things he might have said to persuade him, that one word was the most powerful. "I'll call the operation leader, he might have some locations we can try."

"We?"

"It's an FBI operation, my only chance of getting information is if I come along with you."

"Then do it!"

"You have somewhere I can make a private call?"

"Use the conference room, and hurry!" Gibbs watched him go and prepared to deal with an increasingly anxious Abby.

"It's taking too long…way too long. I…I don't know what to do, tell me what to do Gibbs."

He linked his arm through hers and led her to the elevator. "We'll go get them as soon as Fornell has something. Abs, we have two murder victims, their families deserve to know who killed them, you were running tests before; can you get back to work or should I ask Vance to get you some help?"

She wiped her hand across her eyes and took a deep breath. "I can work. Tthe bastard who did this, he put Tony and Tim in danger, if there's something in the evidence, I'll find it."

NCIS NCIS

They hurried up two flights of stairs and a windowless passageway, relieved to be getting away from the freezing cold room, but nervous about what they might face.

"Wish I had my Sig, feel kind of lost without it." Tony was still a little dizzy, now they were moving he was getting warmer and it was getting lighter too, the further they walked the more he could see; there had to be a window up ahead. He looked around, maybe there was something they could use as a weapon. "Whoa! Tim, you're bleeding."

"I know." Tim had been hoping Tony wouldn't notice the blood on his sleeve, if he didn't think about it he could almost forget the pain. "I'm okay Tony, let's concentrate on getting out of here."

"Not until you put on your jacket, you must be freezing."

Tim shook his head but Tony was in no mood for discussion, "Put it on."

"Just one sleeve please Tony, I…it's awkward."

"Got it." Tony helped Tim put on the jacket and they started walking again, listening for any sound that might indicate there was someone else in the building.

Tim stopped and pointed to a door, one that obviously led outside, Tony glanced out of the window. "I don't see anyone, we should move before we have company."

"Hey, maybe our luck's changing, the key's in the lock." Tim was almost touching the key, ready to turn it when he saw the wire. "Oh, no, not…" He stepped back, saw what he was looking for, nestled in the corner, he pulled his friend toward him, "Tony, we can't get out here, there's a bomb."


	9. Chapter 9

8

 **Chapter Nine**

Tim felt drained, they'd worked so hard to get here, and now this…

"Hey Tim, how're you doing?" Now they had some light he could see how beat his friend looked.

"Tired I guess. How about you? That's quite a shiner you've got there."

Very gently Tony put a finger on his cheekbone. "Zoe's gonna kill me, we're supposed to be meeting her parents Saturday."

"You're going to make one heck of a first impression." He took a good look at Tony. "You sure you're okay, you look…"

"Like hell I'm guessing; pity there's not a mirror here, you'd see you've had better days."

"We both have I guess. Okay Tony, time for me to take a look at what they've left behind, see if we can get past this thing." He went to the window and peered out through the grimy glass, hoping maybe that help was already here, he tried to figure out how long they'd been missing. "The position of the sun…I'd say it's around 09.00."

Tony let out a low whistle. "Gibbs is going to kill us."

"He won't have to kill us if we don't get out of here…I don't get it Tony, what's in here that has to be protected by explosives?"

"Us?"

"God I hope not, there had to be something here before they put us in that cellar."

"We can always get a team here when we get out…if we get out." Tony glanced at the small package and guided Tim toward it. "We can't do nothing Tim, there's a timer, see. We have twenty-nine minutes. Have you seen one of these before?"

Tim wiped the sweat from his forehead and took a deep breath. "I think so…a month ago at FLETC, course it looks different in a classroom…" He knelt down and took a closer look. "If it's the same, we cut the wires in sequence; red, black then green."

"You think you can do this without making us go boom?"

"Not sure Tony, my knife, it's pretty blunt after we used it as a screwdriver. Do you still have yours?"

Tony's hand went to his belt and he grinned. "I'd let you slap me on the head if it wasn't already ringing; how could I forget?" He unclipped the knife and held it out. "I can't do this Tim, if I have another dizzy spell and cut the wrong wire…can you?" He looked into Tim's eyes, saw the pain his friend was trying to hide, he also saw absolute determination.

"I'll do it Tony, I need a minute." Tim took a few deep breaths, he had to focus, now more than ever.

"No hurry, you still have twenty-four minutes, just don't go all James Bond and leave it until we have three seconds left."

Tim shook his head slowly, trust Tony to come up with a movie reference, even at a time like this. "Okay, let's do this."

Tony patted him lightly on the shoulder and took up a position by the window. "It's all clear out there, looks like they're long gone…maybe we're a loose end they're tidying up."

"Not if I can help it we're not." Tim cut the first wire and held his breath for a few seconds. "No boom Tony, time for the next one, you ready?"

"I'm a DiNozzo, I'm always ready."

"Then be prepared to run when I cut the last wire because if I'm wrong…"

"You're not wrong. Tim, I know you, when you see a thing once it's stored up here." He tapped his temple. "I'll be ready to get the door open, not because you might be wrong, because I want to get out of this God-forsaken place."

"Okay, here goes nothing." Tim wiped his hands on his shirt front, gripped the knife, cradled the black wire and cut. There was an instant when he expected the world to explode, instead he felt a pat on his head.

"Way to go Tim, just one wire to go and we still have twenty-one minutes."

The digital readout was still counting down, there was time, no need to hurry, take it steady. Tim breathed in and cut the green wire, all was quiet, had he done it? "Let's get out of here Tony." Tim was suddenly emotionally spent, his energy drained, all he wanted to do was get into a hot shower then a comfortable bed…

"Hold on Tim, I've got you."

"Me…why?"

"You drifted off for a second, take my hand, up you get…good work. Now the door." Tony pulled down the handle and wasn't surprised when it opened smoothly. "Knew they wouldn't lock it, why would you with this stuff wired and ready to blow?"

Tony held on to Tim's uninjured arm and guided him out the door, they both breathed in the fresh air, the freedom. "Oh this is good, Tony, can we sit for a while, just…"

Tony shook his head. "Wish we could, problem is we don't know who put us in there and whether they'll be back. We have to start walking, see if we can find somewhere to make a call, maybe get a drink of water."

"I know Tony, was just hoping. Doesn't look like this place has been used in years, no chance there's a vending machine around…looks like walking is our only option."

They took one last look at the concrete box that had almost been their grave and stepped out onto what had once been the taxi-way of a small airfield, both of the hoping a public road wasn't too far away. They'd only just stepped off the tarmac when Tony put his hand on Tim's arm. "Do you hear that?"

Tim stopped and listened. "I don't hear anything, you sure it's not the ringing in your head?"

"Help us, socorro!" A woman's voice, hoarse and distant.

"Now do you hear?"

"Over there, in the hangar."

They set off at a run, working on instincts honed through years of service, if someone was in trouble they had to help.

NCIS NCIS

"This intel better be good Tobias."

"He told his handler they processed the drugs in one of the outbuildings at the airfield, said it was a good place to lose someone for a while."

"He confirm DiNozzo and McGee are there?"

Fornell shook his head. "From where he was calling he couldn't risk naming names. It's as close to confirmation as we're going to get. They'll be safe Jethro, Taylor wouldn't let any harm come to them." Fornell's words didn't carry the conviction they had earlier, every federal agent knew there was a possibility, slim as it may be, of undercover agents getting too involved in their assignment and turning to a life of crime. He had to pray Carl Taylor wasn't one of them.

"Should I get local LEOs to the airfield Gibbs?" Ellie had her phone in her hand.

"No! Jethro, I promised we'd keep this low-key. There's still a chance we can do this without blowing the operation out of the water."

Gibbs hesitated, he wanted nothing more than to call in every favour he was owed and get Marine helicopters out there, but right now they didn't even know for certain Tony and Tim were at the airfield, and Fornell had gone out on a limb for them. "It'll be the three of us Bishop; when we get out there, if we have to reassess the situation we will. You hear me Tobias? If I think we need more manpower, I'll call it in."

Fornell knew it was the best he could hope for. "Fair enough."

The elevator reached its destination and they ran across the parking lot. Ellie handed her boss the keys; it would take most drivers over an hour to get to the airfield, if anyone could shave minutes off the journey it was Gibbs. As the tyres screeched on the asphalt she smiled, fifty minutes was her guess, she just wished Tony and McGee were here so she could place a bet with them. The smile faded and she reached for the gun at her side, however long it took, when they got to the airfield, she'd be ready.

NCIS NCIS

Tony was first to get to the hangar, he could hear more shouts, the panic loud and clear, he called out. "Listen! Calmarse! We're going to get you out, hold on!" He tried to keep his voice steady, to show them he was ready to help. Tim arrived, his movements slower, more measured, he sighed as he looked at the door. "Don't make promises you can't keep Tony, look."

Tony groaned. "Not again…what is it with these guys and explosives."

The wires were wrapped around the padlock securing the doors and draped along the floor to connect with a black plastic carton. They could see the flickering red light of the digital timer, Tim took a step closer to see how much time they had. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, it didn't work. "Tony, can you…?" He moved aside, reaching out for the wall to steady himself.

"Oh, oh…four minutes Tim, looks like they wanted this place to blow first. You don't have much time, think you can do this?"

"Honestly Tony, I don't know." He knelt down to get a closer look at the device, his head was pounding, he was cold, thirsty…"Stop, concentrate."

"You okay Tim?"

"Trying to…okay, I'm pretty sure I've seen this before."

"Pretty sure doesn't cut it; we have to get them out Tim." Tony stooped down beside his friend offering a supporting shoulder for him to lean on. "I have my knife, are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." He checked the wires again, recalling the schematics he'd studied. "Here goes, four wires this time; in sequence, red, black, red, black, working from the timer out…" He cut the first wire as Tony tried to calm down the increasingly anxious women trapped inside the hangar; his combination of Spanish and English seemed to be working, the sudden quiet was welcome. A sharp snip and the next wire was cut. Tim sat back for a moment, breathed deep and tried to steady his hand, then he realised, it wasn't just his hand that was shaking violently, his whole body was trembling, he was so, so cold. "T…Tony, I…you'll have to take over, if I try…I'm going to blow us all to kingdom come."

"And you think I won't?" Tony's light-hearted tone was at odds with his troubled expression. He'd been half expecting Tim to keel over long before now, but he sure wished he'd been able to hold out a little longer. "You'll have to talk me through it, so no zoning out on me, deal?"

"Deal…how's your vision Tony?"

"Better, the DiNozzo's have always been fast healers."

"If you say so. Okay, clock's ticking. Place the knife behind the black wire…you'll need a strong sharp cut, ready?"

Tony nodded, held the wire gently but firmly and sliced through it, one down.

"Good job Tony; take a deep breath, this is the important one. That's right, now take the wire, keep it as still as possible, steady…you've got it, now cut."

The sound of the wire snapping seemed impossibly loud, but there was no ear-shattering explosion. "We did it Tim, two in one day, and we haven't had breakfast…what?"

Tim was pointing at the bomb, a tired grin spreading on his face; Tony looked at the timer and almost burst out laughing…three seconds. "You had to do it Tony, you had to have your James Bond moment." Tim patted his friend on the shoulder. "If you help me up…we can try to open…" Suddenly he was so hot…he slumped to the ground, his physical and emotional energy completely spent.

Tony knelt by his side and checked his pulse, it seemed pretty strong but it sure wasn't steady. "You need help Tim, the women do too. I should try to find the road…" He struggled to his feet, racking his tired, concussed brain for the Spanish phrases that would enable him to explain to the women behind the padlocked doors what he was about to do. Then he heard it, screeching tyres; for a second he thought they were coming back, but when the car turned onto the taxi-way he saw the familiar silver hair and he relaxed; Gibbs was here.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Gibbs poured a generous measure of bourbon into his mug, unrolled a sheet of paper and set the mug down on one end and a jar of nails on the other. He always relished this phase of a project, when the idea that had existed only in his head was ready to be put on paper. It would take time, lots of it, and he was a long way from being ready to choose materials, but he was determined Victoria Palmer would have a doll house like no other. He'd make the rough sketch tonight and when they caught the bastard who was killing sailors and displaying their bodies in his sick heraldic designs…only then would he get to work in earnest.

The quiet of the basement was a welcome respite after the hectic events of the preceding hours. The airfield had become a hive of FBI activity as soon as the hangar had been opened with the help of Ellie's interpreting skills they'd quickly discovered the girls were from Venezuela and had boarded a plane on the promise of jobs and US citizenship. They'd arrived at the airfield two days earlier and had been imprisoned ever since; their ordeal had all the hallmarks of a sex trafficking ring and Gibbs had been happy to step aside and let Fornell take charge. He had more important things to deal with.

Mercifully neither Tony nor Tim had been badly hurt, they'd both needed a night in the hospital; Tony's concussion and dehydration both proved to be minor, Tim tried to convince the doctor the wound in his arm was 'nothing a Band-Aid wouldn't fix'; he'd been overruled.

"You were shot Agent McGee, and although the bullet grazed your arm rather than cutting through muscle you lost blood and there is a trace of infection. We'll keep you in and if the IV antibiotics do their job you could be released with your partner tomorrow, but only if you rest tonight."

Gibbs smiled as he recalled Tim's expression, he was so disappointed, it was Tony who set him at ease. "Cut yourself some slack, I'm stuck here too, if we do as the docs say we'll be back at work raring to go tomorrow. I don't know about you, but I'm beat, take a break Tim, you earned it."

From where Gibbs had been standing they'd both earned a break; he knew his team well enough to know they'd take the minimum amount of time away from work. Tony would be back tomorrow and from what Ducky had told him Tim would follow a day or so later, depending how quickly the antibiotics and IV fluids did their job. His team wanted justice for Costa, Faye and Stearman as much as he did, and it finally seemed as if the tide was turning in their favour. The picture from Griffin Pageant and Play had been released on a nationwide BOLO, no hits so far but at least they knew what he looked like. Abby had matched the DNA from the Seattle murder to the blood on the display case fabric, a link he was looking forward to exploring further when he had the bastard in interrogation.

He took a drink, holding down the paper as he did so; time to pick up his pencil and get started on the sketch. The basic outline was done when he heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Tobias, you find him?" There'd been no word from Taylor since he gave them the airfield location, from the look on his friend's face, the news wasn't good.

"Oh yeah…least what's left of him. Our ME got a DNA match, but she's still trying to separate Taylor's body from the plastic sheet they wrapped him in before they torched it."

"He took a wrong turn, but no one deserves to die that way."

"Guess it's one of the dangers of going deep undercover. You know what it can be like, no contact with the outside world, measuring every word before you open your mouth, on edge every minute…but Taylor…he went native big style."

"You have proof?"

Fornell took out his hip flask, swallowed a warming mouthful of his favourite Macallan and offered it to Gibbs who shook his head. "I'm good; you gonna answer my question?"

"We have proof, wish we didn't. Our IT guys are all over his communications, he encrypted everything but they have enough and they'll get more. He'd been turned right around Jethro, he'd already killed two members of the organisation, moved up the ladder. We think…it looks like he was aiming for the top."

"Never would have happened, these people, they keep the power close to home."

"Taylor knew that, as a Federal Agent he knew, as a member of their gang…like I said, he lost who he was."

Gibbs rolled up the paper, he couldn't concentrate on a woodworking project when his friend was hurting. "You eaten Tobias?"

"Sandwich…lunchtime I guess. Emily's with her grandmother, I don't always cook when she's not at home."

"Then it's lucky I have two steaks in the refrigerator. I'll cook you supper and you can tell me how much you've managed to salvage of this operation. I'd be real glad if you caught the filth who are taking young women away from their families with false promises and selling them to the highest bidder."

NCIS NCIS

Craig sat at a corner table facing the door, the bar was busy, people coming and going as they waited for tables in the adjoining restaurant or simply settled in for an evening of drinking and talking. He always tried to find a busy bar if he wanted a drink, never somewhere quiet and secluded, trouble with those places was the bartender remembered faces, tried to get names to go with them, tried to be your friend. He didn't need friends, and he sure didn't need anyone knowing his name, all he wanted was a beer or two and the chance to be around people without having to interact with anyone.

He swigged his beer and thought about another night in another bar, he'd been sitting much like this, nursing a beer at the end of another day of his aimless existence. He hadn't been listening to the TV, he wasn't interested in anything back then, until he heard a name, Robert Jameson. He looked up, his breath catching in his throat could it be…? It was, older, shorter hair, in a white Navy uniform, posing for the camera as he accepted an award for saving a crew mate on a US Navy destroyer.

In that moment his life had a purpose again, for too long he'd pushed the past away, tried to forget everything, now…he would do it, he'd find the Jamesons and make them pay for what they'd done to him; by sending him away they'd sent him to hell.

It didn't take long to find out Nancy and Phil were dead, Nancy died of breast cancer just two years after her father's death. Phil was killed in a car accident eleven months ago. Craig was a little sorry about Nancy, she had been kind to him and if Phil and Robert hadn't ganged up on her maybe she'd have let him stay…he'd never know, as for Phil, Craig's only regret was he hadn't been driving the car that killed him.

That left Robert, he was the last man standing, so he was the one who'd have to be punished for the years of degradation. It had taken time to find out which ship Robert was on, and the longer it took Craig's desire for revenge grew stronger and stronger until one day he knew exactly what he had to do. The only way he could find lasting peace was to kill the man who'd cast him adrift without a second thought.

Eventually he'd found the name of the ship Robert was on and his frustration had almost boiled over when he found out the _USS Jason Dunham_ had set sail for a six month deployment two weeks earlier. At first he'd raged, then he'd cried and finally…he'd seen the delay for what it was, an opportunity to plan, time to hone his skills, perfect his art and give Robert exactly what he deserved.

Craig finished his drink, he wouldn't linger, better to get back to his hotel room and check he had everything he needed for when Robert's ship arrived at Norfolk. He'd found the perfect place to display the body, all he had to do was try to keep his excitement under control until the task was complete, a mistake now could bring the whole thing tumbling down, no, that was unthinkable, he was so close he could taste Robert's breath on his face, hear his startled cry when he recognised his captor, see the fear in his eyes as he was denied life-giving oxygen…it was a matter of days away, so close…

NCIS NCIS

For what might be the first time in recorded history Gibbs was glad to hear Abby's music pounding as he walked into the lab. When Tony and Tim were missing her lab had been eerily quiet and it was only after she'd seen them both with her own eyes that she was able to feel like life was back to normal.

"Hey Gibbs, Delilah called, she says Tim's home and he's coming in to work tomorrow, Ducky says it's okay so long as he stays at his desk."

"Good to know Abs." Ducky had already informed him about Tim's return to work, but there was no need to rain on Abby's parade. He handed her a familiar cup. "Celebration Caf-Pow?"

"Yes! I have a lot of catching up to do." Abby had tried real hard to concentrate on the search for their killer, it hadn't been easy, two of her favourite people in the whole world had been missing and her thoughts kept drifting…

"What are you working on?" Gibbs stepped closer to the monitors, he recognised the facial recognition software, not that he'd ever tell Abby.

"Having a face for the sick, twisted…it gives us something at last. I'm not expecting much but it never hurts to run the image through our databases." She pointed to another screen. "Over here I'm running security footage again, I know Tony and Ellie looked at most of this before, but then we were looking for the victims, this time, if he's there, maybe we can see where he goes. It's not much…"

"Heck of a lot better than nothing. Call me if you get anything, Tony and Bishop are itching to get out there and bring this guy in."

"I will; trying to find him was what put my guys in danger, if the bombs had exploded." Her eyes filled with tears and Gibbs cradled her head, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "They're safe Abs, mostly sound too, it could have been bad, turned out good. You always tell me, now I'll tell you, think positive!"

He left her to work, confident she'd soon settle into the task at hand, okay he was pretty sure she'd call Tim or Delilah a few times, but it would never take her away from anything she felt would give them a lead, get them one step nearer to closing the case. His depleted team was focussed again and tomorrow it would be complete, when it was they'd get the bastard, they were close, he could feel it

6


	11. Chapter 11

12

 **Chapter Eleven**

The sky was lightening with every mile he drove toward Norfolk, he'd stolen the car under cover of darkness and started the drive south right away. He didn't want to get caught up in the rush hour traffic, and the earlier he got there the quicker he could start looking for the best place to get Robert. It would have to be off-base, he'd never be able to get a pass, not in the time he had. He had to narrow down the possibilities, there were bars, motels, nightclubs, lots of them, what he had to do was figure out which ones were most likely to attract Robert Jameson, and when he did he would pounce.

This would be the culmination of all he'd worked toward since he resolved to kill Robert. He'd re-read heraldic texts, studied current forensic procedures, pored over US Navy websites, all to arm himself with everything required for success and soon…Craig almost drifted outside his lane as the realisation hit him with almost physical force. His only purpose had been to perfect his art ready to display Robert's body. When that was done, when the aching need inside him had been assuaged, what then? Would he go back to the aimless existence he'd known before? He didn't want that, the blissful feeling he got when he dressed his victims, when he sliced the sinister into their chests, he couldn't lose that, it was the only time he felt truly alive.

With Robert gone the task he'd set himself would be concluded, or would it…? There were others, after the Jamesons had abandoned him, others who'd dragged him further into the abyss. His heart was beating faster, he knew their names, he'd find them, if it took the rest of his life they'd get what was coming to them, and he'd find peace.

NCIS NCSI

"Abby, don't you have any work to do in your lab?"

"Major Mass Spec can't be rushed Tim, I have time to carry out my mission."

"Your mission?"

She released her grip and smiled. "Gibbs told me to be sure you have everything you need."

Tim supressed a sigh, he knew she was trying to be helpful, but he wished everyone would treat him normally, instead of dealing with him as if he was made of china. He was alone in the squadroom because the others had gone out to examine another burned-out van, they'd received several calls about possible links to their killer, none of which had panned out, this one looked more promising, the time-frame worked and it had been found near one of the routes close to Stearman's body. "Abs, I'm good, I promise the most strenuous thing I'll do is pick up a phone, okay?"

"You promise?"

"Scout's honour, I have a couple of searches to run, we could do lunch later if you're not too busy."

"Sounds real good." She gave him another gentle hug. "It's great to have you here Tim; you and Tony, when we couldn't reach you…I was…"

"I know." He kissed her cheek. "It must be tough for you working here when we're out in the field, but…"

"It's the job, Gibbs already told me, doesn't stop me being scared." The phone on Tim's desk rang. "You have a call, I'll get out of here, but you call me if you need anything!"

He gave her the thumbs-up and picked up his phone. "Special Agent McGee."

"Hi, my name's Bob Hawes, I'm a detective in San Francisco, been on a camping trip for a few days, saw your BOLO this morning."

"You know him?" Tim sat up straighter in his chair.

"Knew him…long time ago, twelve, no must be fifteen years. I was a Sheriff's Deputy near Tucson. Your guy, BOLO says person of interest, you looking for anyone else?"

"Not right now, you know how it is, trying to keep an open mind; Detective Hawes…"

"You can't tell me too much, I get it. Let's just say I wouldn't be surprised whatever he'd done. He was a troubled kid, Craig Argent is his name. First time I saw him, we were called to the local group home."

"He was in the foster care system?"

"Had been for years. He…when we got there he was calm, but he had blood on his shirt, his knuckles were a mess. The supervisor said he'd been punching the wall in his room. Another boy had been messing with his stuff, there was a fight, the other kid needed stitches and when they pulled him away Craig started beating on the wall. Took two grown men to stop him."

"Anger issues."

"In spades, wasn't our last callout to him."

"I'm surprised we didn't get any hits on his DNA."

"My guess is his records were sealed. Troubled juve, psychological problems…can't imagine many people were looking to make trouble for him, 'specially after…"

"Detective?" Tim heard a deep sigh from the other end of the line.

"There was never a prosecution, not even an arrest, but there were rumours…some of the County group homes, they weren't always safe havens for kids who needed help."

"Are you saying the youngsters were abused?"

"Like I said, we had nothing we could ever take to court, back then no one was talking about this stuff, least of all the victims."

"We're not looking to build a case Detective Hawes, just want to try and understand why this guy does what he does."

The silence was long enough for Tim to worry he wasn't going to get an answer, then Bob Hawes spoke again. "I don't know all the names Agent McGee. I was a lowly junior deputy at the time, but what I heard…it was bad. Vulnerable kids being …I can't even say it, passed from one abuser to another, never saying a thing, not to the cops anyhow…we never knew how long it had been going on but it was long enough to damage lives."

It was an all too familiar story; people without a voice being preyed on by the very men and women who were supposed to be protecting them. "If you could email me details of the group homes and any other details you remember, my boss is most likely going to want to take this further."

"Will do Agent McGee, Craig Argent…all of them, we let them down…"

Tim couldn't disagree, but he was grateful to the detective for the information and he told him so as he ended the call. He quickly typed in a new search and picked up his phone ready to give Gibbs some good news at last when he heard the familiar ping of the elevator.

"Another waste of time, Abby's not going to get anything from that pile of scrap metal." Tony strode from the elevator and threw his backpack on the floor. Ellie and Gibbs didn't look any happier. She glanced up at the plasma where the ID pictures of the victims were displayed. "We have to get a break soon."

"We got one." All eyes turned to Tim. "I was just going to call you, we have a name, and any minute there'll be…here it is. He clicked the remote and a driver's license appeared on the screen. Gibbs and the others joined him in staring at the picture. "Good work McGee, how did you get it?"

"Finally got a hit on the BOLO." He filled them in on what Bob Hawes had told him. "I'll add the name to the revised BOLO, and Boss, do you think we could get his records released from Tucson Family Services? Maybe if we talk with some of the people who knew him…"

Gibbs was already heading up the stairs. "I'll talk to the Director."

NCIS NCIS

There had been the inevitable delay as red tape and bureaucratic prevarication threatened to stall the case, when they got Argent's records they were saddened yet not surprised by the number of times a troubled boy was passed from one family to another. They made calls, talked with as many foster-carers as they could, all talked of a damaged child who lashed out whenever he didn't get what he wanted. Gibbs put down his phone after yet another call. "I'm going for coffee, anyone else."

He got a nod from Tony and a brief smile from Tim, both of them still on their phones, Ellie had just finished a call. "Gibbs…"

"Yeah I know, you want food."

"No, although….no, it's not that. The last family Argent stayed with before he went into the group home. Phil and Nancy Jameson, they're both dead but they had a son, Robert."

"You talk with him?"

"Not yet, he's a Petty Officer in the US Navy."

Gibbs felt something in his gut, this had to be it, the lead they'd been waiting for so long, he saw Tony and Tim put down their phones, calls concluded and a new scent in their nostrils, "You get his name?"

"Robert Jameson, the neighbour didn't know where he's stationed."

Before he could even turn his head Gibbs heard Tim's quiet, "On it Boss."

In a matter of minutes the plasma screen became the centre of attention as Tim clicked to display a military ID. "Petty Officer First Class Robert Jameson, currently at sea on the _Jason Dunham_ , due back in Norfolk tomorrow after a six month deployment."

"We thinking this is the guy Argent wants to put in the rampant pose?" Tony had got up from his desk to get a closer look.

Gibbs nodded. "Looks likely, but we assume nothing, get his service history McGee, Bishop, contact Norfolk PD, local NCIS, have them watching for Argent. Tony…"

"Talk with any of his former crew mates ashore, I'm on it."

"I'll go see Ducky, this could help him with the psychological profile."

NCIS NCIS

He stared at the ship, at the waving, cheering people on the quayside, families and friends keen to welcome home the crew who'd been away from them for six long months…he would be ashore soon, and when he was on dry land Robert Jameson would have nowhere to hide. He'd been so patient, and he would soon get his reward.

Craig walked a little further, it would take time for all the crew to be at liberty, he would relish the last moments before the kill, watch him like a cat watched a mouse, and when Robert least expected it, his end would come.

NCIS NCIS

"I want agents on every gate, he has to be here somewhere." Gibbs was on edge, he knew if they didn't find Jameson, Craig most likely would.

"His rack-mate said Jameson has a girl waiting, didn't know her name…maybe they booked into a motel."

"Check it out Tony. We have to find him."

The team had been in Norfolk since morning, certain they were in the right place looking for the right person. Ducky had agreed with their deduction, his dismay at the treatment Craig Argent had received in his youth in no way changed his mind about the heinous nature of his crimes, but it offered a clue as to why his soul had been so grievously damaged. "I pray you find him before he finds Jameson, I fear Argent's entire focus is on displaying him, he blames Robert for all the vile experiences he had to live through, and when he subdues him…my very real worry is that he won't even kill him before he begins the display."

With such a dire thought fresh in their minds Gibbs and the others had driven down to Norfolk immediately. The hours they'd spent so far had proved frustrating, full of activity, just precious little product.

"Gibbs, we may have something, Robert Jameson has a reservation at the Courtyard Virginia Beach, double room for three nights."

"What are we waiting for Bishop, let's move!"

NCIS NCIS

"You have to understand Petty Officer Jameson, Argent has already killed three men, he's looking to add you to his list."

"I can't believe it! You're sure this Craig Argent is the same guy? I remember him as a weedy runt…couldn't imagine him doing anything like this."

"It's been a long time, people change."

"Agent Gibbs, I…three you say, and you really think he wants me?"

Gibbs nodded, understanding the disbelief on Jameson's face, there was no fear there, and perhaps there should be. From his service record they had learned that Jameson was a courageous and skilful sailor, well respected and admired by officers, peers and subordinates alike. "We think he blames you for losing his place in your family."

"And he's killed men, navy men because of what a jealous teenager did all those years ago?" Robert Jameson was struggling to understand the gravity of what Gibbs was telling him, he dug deep into his memory to try and figure out what he'd done that could tip someone into committing not one, but three murders. How fast his day had changed, thirty minutes ago he was checking into the hotel with Susan, his only thoughts had been of the carnal variety, then out of nowhere came a group of federal agents telling him his life was in danger. Susan squeezed his hand and leaned against his shoulder. "Whatever he's done, you're not to blame, I know you."

"Maybe, but there has to be something…"

"Perimeter's clear Boss. McGee's watching in reception, I told him he'd better not move from there"

"Good work Tony." Ducky hadn't been entirely happy that Tim was travelling to Norfolk with the team, his arm was still healing and he'd have preferred him at his desk, however, he knew Gibbs' team took their lead from their boss so he'd agreed to the field trip, so long as Tim wouldn't be required to exert himself. Satisfied they had Jameson safe for the time being Gibbs' thoughts turned to their next move. "We should get you out of here."

"I still think you're making too much of this Agent Gibbs, I can take care of myself."

"You think the other three men who died couldn't? They were all navy too, he got to them, don't underestimate him Petty Officer. I'd like to get you both to a safe house, just 'til we find him."

"Honey." Susan was trembling a little. "Please do as they say, I'm scared…if this guy's already done what they say…"

Jameson sighed. "Okay, for you I'll do it. Guess we're already packed and ready to go."

"Let me make some calls to get everything in place then we'll get you out of here."

NCIS NCIS

"Clear in reception Boss, bring them through."

"Roger that." Gibbs and Tony exited the elevator, Jameson and Susan Campbell between them. Ellie had gone to bring the sedan round to the rear entrance, well away from the steady stream of traffic at the main reception area. As they walked along the service corridor Tim followed, his arm might not be of much use right now, but there was nothing wrong with his eyes. They stepped out into bright sunlight and Tony hurried forward to open the car door; it happened in an instant, one second he was upright the next, he was falling to the ground as a whirlwind of arms and legs crashed into him.

"Leave him be! He's mine!" Craig had been waiting, certain he'd chosen the right spot to capture his prey, he'd been ready to pounce and then he'd seen them guarding Robert, they knew, how did they know? He had to take him, he was too close to fail…he landed on the ground, his fall cushioned by the man beneath him, he could still do it, if he got up now all he had to do was get the hypodermic…suddenly his arms were pinned behind his back, he felt the cold snap of metal on his wrists and his heart almost broke. An unearthly wail escaped his lips. "Nooo! He has to pay for what he did. He took my life, I have to take his, it's the only way!"

Gibbs hauled him roughly to his feet. "What about Lt Costa, Seaman Faye, Petty Officer Stearman? What did they do to you?"

Craig had to concentrate, who were they? Oh yes. "They died with honour, and I treated them honourably, what more could they want?"

"They wanted to live you bastard!"

Craig laughed hysterically. "Bastard, how did you know?"

"We know all about you." Tony helped Gibbs keep Argent under control, he was still trying to pull away from them, trying to get to Jameson. "You don't know anything!" Tony turned his head as Argent's spittle splashed his face. "You don't know how it felt to be thrown out of the only home where you felt safe. You don't know what it feels like when men who should look out for you touch you…kiss you, make you…don't tell me you know, you're so ignorant you make me sick! He has to die, don't you see? The only way I can end the nightmare is to see him displayed on a field of gold, his head wearing a crown, his chest with the sinister…please, let me go."

Argent's knees gave way, his energy spent, his quest had ended in failure and he wanted…"Kill me, if I can't have him I'll never know peace, just kill me now."

"Not happening Argent, you've done wrong, now it's your turn to pay." Gibbs kept a firm grip on his prisoner, until transport arrived he wouldn't let go. He held on tighter as Robert Jameson walked toward them, his expression one of deep sadness.

"Craig." Argent lifted his head slowly. "You come to gloat?" "No…Craig, I never knew, you have to believe me. I was a stupid, jealous kid, wishing my grandfather looked at me the way he looked at you, when he was gone I wanted to punish you, but I never…what happened to you, I wouldn't wish it on anyone, being treated that way…" He turned to Gibbs. "The men who…have they been punished?"

"Wish I could tell you they had, but I promise we'll do everything in our power to find them, and to expose them for what they are." Gibbs looked Argent in the eye. "You didn't deserve what happened to you, but now three families are grieving and they sure as hell don't deserve that. They need closure and I'm going to see they get it."

NCIS NCIS

"Hey Abs, you're working late."

She was reading Argent's file and jumped a little on hearing his voice. "I had to finish reading this, and I figured it didn't matter how long it took because I'm not likely to sleep tonight. Oh Gibbs, so many lives ruined, I feel terrible for the men who died and their families…Argent, I know he's going to be locked away for a long time, it's…if his life had taken just one different turn."

"Life's full of what-ifs, can't second-guess all of them. He'll likely be sent to a secure mental institution; Ducky doesn't think there's a magic bullet to fix him, but he'll be given therapy, maybe be able to face his demons." Gibbs switched off her monitor. "Time to go home Abs, I'll give you a ride and we can get supper at the diner on the way. Try not to focus on Argent's problems, we did our job, caught a killer. Focus on the Navy families, we work for them, and you did good work."

She picked up her bag and slipped her arm through his. "We all did Gibbs; this team, your team, when we work together we work wonders."

He kissed her cheek and they walked out together, both of them knowing that although they'd solved this case, sadly they wouldn't have to wait long before another Navy family needed the MCRT to work on their behalf. When that happened they'd work until they dropped to do what was necessary, they all felt it, this wasn't a job to them, it was their vocation.

THE END


End file.
